yes I do

Yes, I enjoy a good day of fishing.

I have fond memories of that day back in July of nineteen eighty-four. I have no recollection of the day, none at all, but I recall it fondly.
It was a hot day of my pre-existence, hot, but not unseasonably so. Just the right kind of hot, like a baked potato with sour cream and chives and maybe a sprinkle of salt.

Yes, it was a salty day. It was the first time I’d ever laid my eyes upon the ocean, and I was in awe of its largeness. It was also rather blue and fluidic.
I’ve never seen the ocean, though I’ve heard it’s nice. I was up at the lake, casting my line out from the dock. I was using hot dogs smeared with creamed corn as bait and pulling in quite a haul of catfish.

I’d cast out, then wait, ever so patiently. Then, when I knew the pork-entrail laden barb had reached its destination at the bottom of the lake, I’d begin to crank the reel. Slowly, slowly, dragging the prize along the carpet of underwater moss and stringy weeds. Then, I’d perform the secret manoeuvre taught to me by my grandfather when I was six. As I reeled, I’d begin chanting my mantra.

“Here fishy fishy fishy. Here fishy fishy fishy.”

I’d continue until I found my monotonous Zen, and at that moment, always that moment, I would jerk my rod over my left shoulder and the line would go taut.

I had caught my prey.

I’d reel it in steadily, lift it out of the water with one hand and remove the hook with the other. When it was free, I’d hold it up to my face and give it a meaningful, yet reproachful look.

Then I’d take one of the thousands of rolled up and tied pieces of paper from the pile next to me, shove it in the fish’s open mouth and toss it into the water to send my message across the boundless expanse of water.

Perhaps one day, someone will read one of my cries for help, and come rescue me from this deserted island.

heart

It's been quite some time now since I got into that pesky car accident. I still don't consider it to be entirely my fault, as I didn't actually crash it myself so much as I made someone else crash into me. Technicalities like that don't exactly change the fact that my car now has some minor body damage. Technicalities like that also don't change the fact that "minor" was not exactly an appropriate or accurate word to use in that last sentence.

Before I go on, I should mention that

a) I don't really feel inclined to get it fixed

and

b) I lack the required funds to get it fixed

Nonetheless, I spent no less than three and a half hours out in the sun on the weekend washing it, scrubbing it, rinsing it, vacuuming it, windexing the windows and mirrors both inside and out, cleaning the mats, and then going back over it all to remove spots and streaks. All in preparation for next weekend's four hour drive over winding highways and down dusty gravel roads.

I love my car.

mirrors are fun

Yes, yes they are.

living a fool's desires

One night, a long, long time ago, a fool came upon a rather large pile of stones, which he mistook for a king. He spoke to the stone lord and asked a question of a passing fancy.

“Tell me, o’ wise one.” begged the fool “What is happiness?”

The fool stared long and hard at the mound before him, and in his foolishness, he imagined that the false king gazed back, deep in thought. Pleased with himself for having come up with such a difficult and therefore important question, the fool was content to sit down wait for a reply. For seven hours, the fool waited, for surely, he thought, when the king was ready, he would share his wisdom, and the fool would spread the news and live in bliss with all his fellow men. Time passed, and the fool grew weary, eventually falling asleep where he sat, and so he dreamed. He dreamt of money and acclaim and above all, of power; he dreamt of that which he found himself lacking. When he awoke, the fool was startled to find that darkness had given way to the sun, and in his ignorance, he deduced that he must have spent the night listening to the king’s words, which were so powerful that they caused him to have visions; visions of happiness. Thus the fool ran to the nearest town to tell the people the three keys to the gates of eternal joy. The people believed him, for none that associated with powerful kings could be fools. They made him a lord, and spread his word to other towns, and people came from all around to settle in what was becoming quite a respectable city, ruled by a man who was something less than ordinary.

Now skip forward a few centuries. Here we are. It’s really something, isn’t it?

pretty circles

A little while back, Colin got a mental shit kicking. It was tough time for Colin, as even though the attack wasn’t entirely intentional, it came from someone very close to him, and somewhat changed the direction in which his life was headed. He was down for a while, but as everyone knows, you can’t keep Colin down. No sir, Colin always gets right back up on his feet, because Colin is a logical and rational person and doesn’t let his mind get carried away on him. Not for too long anyway.

So since he was feeling better, Colin needed something to occupy his attention. He now spends more time alone, looking up and thinking, because for some reason he likes to look at the sky when he thinks. Maybe he thinks it looks pretty, and it makes it so that no matter what he’s thinking about and how bad he feels, he can always find a way to smile because if you can’t look at the stars and smile then what you should really be doing is looking down at your feet and trying to figure out a way to get out of the quicksand you’ve walked into. Sometimes you can over think things to the point where you don’t know where you stand anymore, so Colin also spends a bit more time out with his friends having fun because that’s what friends are for and it would be a waste to have friends and not use them for what they do best.



Now go tell a pretty girl you know just how pretty she is, or if you are that pretty girl, then go look in the mirror and smile a pretty smile and also thank you for making the world a whole lot nicer to be in.

let me tell you

This is about Colin; an update, if you will.

He didn’t implode or explode or sink to the bottom of the bay. The only water in his lungs was of the holy variety, and though it burned something fierce he coughed it all up. Now it’s out there floating on air as vapour based redemption. Son, would you pass me a beer?

Life’s quite the sport, wouldn’t you agree? Things can seem complicated and are generally more complicated than they seem. Add a pretty girl to the mix and watch the shit hit the fan.

Colin could have avoided the deep end of the ocean, but swimming with your eyes closed is bound to end in distraction. Looking back, even had he been given a choice, he’d still have left the water wings at home.

So this, my friends, is a message, from him to me and from me to you:

I’m okay.
You’re okay.
Go ahead, dive in.

tiers of night

A man once told me he had a dream,
that two of the brightest stars collided.


Expectations were running high.
I’d remember this for years.
I would share it with you for just that reason,
but I got the context all wrong.


They fell to the earth together, and lay on the ground, dying.
That was where she found them.


I was there you know. I wasn’t asleep.
I heard it all; every breath, every moan, every kiss.
Every fucking kiss.
My legs were shaking, I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t believe it was true.


She picked them up, and held them in their final moments.
Their light made rainbows where it passed through her falling tears.


Do you understand yet?
I sat there the whole time; I was terrified, I was numb.
It was my first experience at being hypnotized by fear.
It seemed like forever, though I’d rather not hear your opinion on that.
It couldn’t be, it couldn’t be.


I wanted the man to tell me more.
He talked all in past tense and prose.


Of course I left! I only had three options.
I was alone. Just me and you and him. I was alone.
Small talk didn’t really have much potential, and sleep seemed so far away now.
Wandering a city I didn’t know seemed somewhat more inviting.
How could I have stayed?


But the man looked up and began to cry.
He said she went away.

that last post wasn't really a post, neither is this

It's more of a lazy, quarter after five in the morning pre-post designed to usher in the weekend with some group participation.
I'm leaving for a St. Catherines road-trip in T-minus seven hours.

Upon my return Sunday afternoon, I will tell you all about my zany adventures. You'll love it.

Correction.

Upon my return Sunday afternoon, I will probably go to my bed and pass out for several hours.

Then I'll tell you. It will still be zany. You will still love it.

For now however, your job is to tell me what you did with your time so that we may join together in a contest of celebratory recollection of our two nights of partial freedom.


Note: Stories involving Batman and/or Super Nintendo score extra points

colin's new e-mail

Breaking Announcement:

Colin has a new e-mail address.

He can now be reached at consciouslydreaming@gmail.com

Actually, that's not really a new address at all.

He just wonders why his inbox is still empty with the exception his Haloscan registration, a Ticket Master confirmation, and an e-mail from his mom.

Yes, his Hotmail account is still active, and will remain so for junk-mail and MSN purposes, but he wishes to experience his exciting G-mail capabilities to the max.

So head forth! Send him electronic excitement today!

interrupted by self-indulgence

I feel like I'm losing my ability to communicate in the real world.
It's not really a big deal, except that I used to be so damn good at it.
I could read people and if needed, manipulate them. I instinctively knew what to say to get along, and to fit in when I had to. I could say what needed to be said to make others feel incredible about themselves, or remain silent by choice.
The thing is, this talent began to fade around the same time that I realized it sickened me. I got tired of pretending, and so I got a lot quieter around people I didn't know, lest I slip into my old habit of being someone else. Everything seemed to be going according to plan.
Then my ears decided to start quitting on me. Now, even when I try, I can't pull off the same personable demeanor I used to handle with such ease. I've ended up struggling to use my former intuitive abilities to only just barely get by every day. A lot of the time, I just resort to smiling and nodding.
At this rate I'll be deaf and lonely at thirty.
Or I'll just start blogging five times a day.


Let's move on...



I know, I know… but honestly, how could I possibly resist posting it?
If you could see my eyes beneath my mop of hair, they would surely be radiating pure joy.
Just let me have my moment.